(5) On a big screen, view each of the ten chocolate cake photographs listed above, slowly and in the order given.

(6) As each chocolate cake comes into view, admire its plump, Rubinesque chocolateness without judgment. Notice its extravagant, gustatory potential, its uncoded promise of instant gratification, its desire to give itself to you completely, deliciously and without delay or qualification. (Note: do not worship the chocolate cake; simply respect it as a cosmic colleague, equal to you but subtly different.)

(7) Breathe deeply in and out seven times. Rejoice in the fact that you are a Woman and that Chocolate is the Destiny of Woman.

(8) Press the tip of your tongue against the C-spot in the roof of your mouth and inhale the unconditional chocolateness of the universe.

(9) Notice how your heart is melting like chocolate. Thank the chocolate for its gift of abundant liquidity. Merge with the chocolate and go wherever it takes you.

(10) Recall how your shamanic forebears rehearsed this ritual millennia ago under starbright skies at full moon. Recall their thrill at the coming of chocolate, centuries before chocolate was invented by Bobina the Bilder of Baden-Baden during the Black Forest High Renaissance.

(11) Visualise yourself as a helpless, defenceless tastebud besieged by chocolate cake. Surrender to the invader without fear.

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About Me

Alcuin Bramerton is a human being seeking to operate happily in the post-religious world. The New Spirituality interests him. His friend, Flutterby, is not in physical incarnation on the Earth-plane at present, but he advises Alcuin on spiritual matters. And there is a lot happening. Unreported by the mainstream media, a man in a grey suit is standing by the yoghurt shelves in a supermarket in Cornwall. He is looking for morphine suppositories. This man is not the promised messiah. Coincidentally, at another remote location in southern England, a man with false teeth is eating a cheese soufflé for lunch. He bites on something hard. There is a second pair of false teeth in his cheese soufflé. This man is not the promised messiah either. Epiphanies of this kind illustrate just how difficult it can be to determine the exact size of God in becquerels per cubic light year. But still the attempt is made.